


Otome's Policy

by SpectralGuacamole



Category: Mai-HiME, Mai-Otome
Genre: Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralGuacamole/pseuds/SpectralGuacamole
Summary: When Junko Farrell pulls one of her tricks, her Otome opponents get a very special treat.





	1. Orange Creamsicle

" _I respect the strategy."_

\- Walter White

" _Kinky."_

\- Hedley Lamarr

* * *

Being an Otome came with certain unexpected hazards. For Junko Farrell, those hazards were her greatest advantage.

Her command platform was the ultimate achievement in Venusian ingenuity and wealth. She stood in the electronic heart of a giant radome that was brightly lit by dozens of screens showing every corner of the country's airspace. Her Otome coat of arms was emblazoned in a mural on the domed wall behind her. The insignia had been adapted from the symbol for the Otomes' ancient predecessors, a large circle with a series of small waved lines crossing the bottom edge. A swarm of tadpoles were swimming up into a crystal clear spring.

Junko's Robe, the Hidden Surging Chrysoprase, was better suited for ballroom receptions than direct combat. It was an all-white strapless ensemble that ended in an elaborate bell skirt. It was equipped with the same flight rings around her ankles, wrists, neck, and waist as any other Robe, but Junko rarely found a use for them. The patterns on her spandex-covered arms were stylized to resemble bridal gauntlets. The countless layers of frills in the skirt were decorated with tiny white tear-shaped shards that seemed to drip almost to the floor. Two pairs of small golden fruit decorated her hair over her ears. Her glamorous blonde tresses were tied in twin tails that curled halfway down her back like a more psychotic version of Rosalie's hair.

While other battle maids may have been sent to defend the frontlines or boldly carry her country's banners into hostile lands, Junko was one royal ace who was always played close to her master's chest. As the most pure, chaste, and virginal of all the Otomes, she knew a thing or two about wrecking other Otomes.

Officially, she was the Proprietress of the Anti-Nanocelibacy Force. Under certain jurisdictions, they were also called Ministry of Copulatant Advancement. They were generally known as the Skank Squad.

Junko's eyes flicked from screen to screen gathering precious intel. A skirmish was breaking out in the skies that crossed Venusia and a neighboring country. She watched how well each Otome from the enemy side was fighting on her feed, crossing her arms over her platinum-lined chest as she went about deciding who she was going to wear today.

She tagged her target. The camera following that specific Otome flashed in white while the rest faded into grey scale.

Junko reached into her hair and gently twisted one of the pairs of berries between her index and middle fingers to open the comms link.

"Secure coordinates… 30 degrees north to 40 degrees east for the Bridal Suite," she said. "We don't need any of her friends barging in on things."

Junko raised her arms above her head to summon her Robe's Element. As she carefully lowered her hands, her face was covered by a translucent silk veil twinkling with fiberoptic signals. A digital timer appeared in front of her eyes to tell her how long she had left to complete to fulfill her mission.

* * *

The Otome was a short brunette with a feisty pair of nunchucks and a feistier habit of using them. When a bird Slave came barreling past her, she strafed at Mach speed and slashed the machine in two with her Element's extending chain. When two more Slaves flew at her from either side, both of her nunchucks turned into grappling wires that hooked around the creatures' beaks and sent them colliding together in a fiery crash.

The Otome's black and orange Robe was brief and to the point. It was modeled as a small open jacket with a set of shorts and thigh stockings that ended with her flight anklets, all held together as a single costume through a collection of straps and garters. The flight disc around her neck extended into thin armor plating along the sides of her face with whisker-like vents over her cheeks.

Her profile emphasized speed and mobility over firepower or formality. That was to say, little of her body's features were left to guessing as she vibrantly charged and twirled in anti-gravity. With her voluptuous pixie looks, her feisty tomboyish attitude, and her strong fighting skills, it was no wonder she caught the attention of certain prying eyes looking to continue their Otome disarmament plans.

"Pff. I'm stressing myself out over these guys and they're not even making me break a sweat," the Otome snorted to herself. "I really need to loosen up."

Each one of her complaints was about to be egregiously remedied.

A shadow suddenly appeared beside her. She thrashed one of her elongating nunchucks toward the Slave only to realize a second later it was no Slave. A man's arm emerged from the black figure's shroud and grabbed the opposite end of her Element by the chain.

A tug of war ensued as more cloaked figures entered Otome's altitude. They all wore the same consuming black shrouds and hide their faces behind mechanical masks bearing Junko's insignia. The glowing rings around their hands and feet could only mean they were sharing the power of another Other.

The dark male figures were reminiscent of members of the old Schwarz cult. But Schwarz's bid for world conquest had long been washed away by a boiling pale sea flooding through the canals of Otomedom, and the Venusians had started a new war in their place. Their cronies may have looked like they belonged to Schwars, but these ones knew how to fly and used much more effective weaponry.

Wielding long metal staves, they carefully triangulated their positions around the Otome. They moved so efficiently that by the time she recognized their patterns, they had already enclosed themselves in a semi-visible force field shaped like a giant diamond with her in the center. They had her trapped like a mouse who would have to give up her cheesecake.

She flew toward one of the cloaked figures holding up his staff. Before she could unleash the chains in her Elements, the transponders built into each staff sprung to life and blinded her with static. Disoriented and rubbing her eyes, she saw the sky looming below her feet, then saw a rapid flicker of the inside of a giant white dome as a veil dangled in front of her eyes. The interference ended and she saw the sky again.

The Otome glanced at her nunchucks, shrugged, and dropped them out of her hands.

Junko was in control. The Otome was fully conscious of what was happening and could sense everything Junko was doing, but she was merely a spectator shuffled away in a corner of her own mind.

The dramatic battle between the Otome and the shadowy forces of Venusia was now a simple matter of gender economics. She had some stuff they wanted, and they had plenty of stuff she needed. All the Otome could do was sit back for however long Junko was temporarily borrowing her body and go along for the ride.

Junko's first order of business was lifting her leg so it stretched the seam along the groin of her Robe. She searched around until she found where the nanofibers were the most strained and, with a sharp tug, split the seam apart. It took a little effort at first, but the glossy threads began to easily separate in her fingers once she got started. The opening was just enough to let in some uninvited guests.

The hooded figures threw away their staves and opened their cloaks to reveal their other staves. The Otome hovered closer so she could briefly but cunningly inspect each male for his preparedness.

The Otome giggled at them knowingly. They chuckled back. All were in agreement.

"I've got this girl's brain for 20 minutes. You guys can have her body." Her words dripped with steamy tantalization. "Let's take her down, fellas."

They rushed over her until she was engulfed in their cloaks, clustering around her in a ravenous midair feast. For the next 20 minutes, the Otome could hear her own voice stubbornly chirping orders.

"Get in there deeper, Eiji! I can barely feel your wedding bells swinging down there!"

"Pick up the pace, Pierre! Less from your abs and more from your hips!"

"Don't chew on her ear so hard, Daisuke! I'm trying to help this girl have a little fun, not maim her!"

"Thrust to the left! To the left! That's where she likes it best!"

"Hold her more to the right! It flows in smoother a little toward her right!"

"Ick! Not on the boob, Touji! You know it only counts when it's inside!"

"Cram it in there, Hiroki. This one feels like she's roomy enough for both of you."

"Ughn! They're stuck! We've got her good now! Try to stay focused and follow how I'm moving her legs! We'll help her get used to it. Hold it steady for that double dose!"

"Give me more grunting, Takeru! Show her what an animal she's making you!"

"She's taking as much as she can hold in her apron, Vincent. Let me get some more of this Robe out of the way so you can stick that thing right up her broom cart!"

"Downf herf mouf workfsm ophay toonf!"

"Immf shaid putff itmf imnf herf moumph, notmf hernf nosftrilmf!"

"Get your hand away from there, Trevor! I didn't have you promoted for your finger tricks!"

"Siegfried! Satoshi! Alternate your attacks! You're not balancing the stress on her pelvis when you keep charging in all at once like that!"

"Hibiki, keep it together! I'll have to get another Groom on the team if you keep going limp on me!"

"Ooh, that's nice."

"You're putting too much pressure on that right _polpetta_ , Tetsuya. Change your angle so she gets all of it when you release! This cute little minx's Nanomachines aren't going to inoculate themselves!"

The Otome blinked when she regained control of her body. She was sprawled on the ground covered in a green blanket of twinkling moss. Her degraded Nanomachines were trying to decide if they should render her Robed, naked, or in her standard maid uniform. Finally they gave up and went with the uniform.

She sighed and gazed up into the sunny blue sky she would never soar through again. Her expression was strong blend of disappointment and satisfaction.

The hooded figures briefly circled in air above her like buzzards leaving their kill, then flew off. The Honeymoon was complete and another Otome had been relieved of her duty.

She tapped her ear to activate the only function her GEM could still provide: A distress signal to the Otome academy.

* * *

Junko tossed the silk veil to the floor like a used condom. She slowly ran her fingers through her dense curls and let off a long, tumultuous purr.

A slight knocking echoed through the wall of the radio chamber.

" _Junko, are you decent?"_

The king of Venusia was on the outside. Junko walked toward the door with a staggered limp in her first few steps. Half of the nerve signals captured during the Honeymoon were transferred back to her, while the other half stayed in the other Otome's mind. Sharing the experience always helped their brainwaves remain in synchronization, and it made things more than a little adventurous for both parties. It also had the residual effect of tricking Junko's body into thinking it had just received a thorough reaping without any of the nasty Nanomachine-breaking consequences.

Junko opened the door and made no effort to hide the extra wobble in her legs. It was her little quirks that had earned her a reputation as a lovely assistant to the Venusian army.

"Am I ever _in_ decent for your liking, your excellency?" she said vivaciously to the king.

Glancing her over, the king nodded slightly in approval. "I suppose not. You're getting better at these decommission jobs, Farrell. You do your kingdom a great deed."

"These dolls are getting easier to undress." Junko snickered. "Garderobe must be running low on recruits by now. In three months time, we've cleaned out Nina's pipes, shot a few flies into Nao's web, skinned Shizuru, demolished Haruka, fed Shiho some worms, had a slice of Mai's pie, taught Akane how to be a real sex kitten, shook Mahya's maracas, hosted the last magic show for Chie's entire Delta Team, whipped Rosalie into shape, and put Erstin out to pasture. That foxy little ball buster today is going to leave our guys high and dry for a while, but I'm sure her snooty Garderobe friends are feeling it worse."

"And you're not growing tired of such exhausting and repetitive tasks?" The king scratched his mustachio.

"Your highness, I'm your loyal handmaiden." Junko playfully tipped her head. "I'm delighted to keep baking éclairs for you as long as your boys keep giving me plenty of filling."

* * *

Natsuki sadly shook her head at the signal on Gardarobe's radar hub. Her voice was so low that the Headmistress almost couldn't hear her.

"It's over. They turned her into another Junker."

Natsuki sulkingly turned away from the monitor and faced the administrator's desk. Shizuru was seated with one hand folded in a half-steeple on her mouth. The other delicately held a tiny porcelain tea saucer.

"Most unfortunate, but an expected outcome with Lady Farrell on the field."

Shizuru idly drew a ring in her tea as she spoke, causing the steam to gently sizzle on the tip of her nail.

"We'll have to treat her like the others," she continued. "Erase all records she was ever an Otome to salvage what we can of everyone's dignity. Inform her family she suffered a freak Nanomachine accident during a training exercise. She's perfectly safe but she'll never be able to Materialize again. Offer her a lifelong severance package so she'll know her devotion to her duty has not gone unappreciated."

There was no discussion over how to handle the situation if a child had been conceived in the Otome's final waltz. That part was never an issue. Any respectable woman who graduated from Garderobe's sisterhood would already know those Nanomachines may have lost the all of the power that enabled her lift an armored limousine, level a city block, or survive atmospheric reentry outside of a shuttle, but they would still make a last stand against certain small biological conundrums for a roughly 72 hour period when they were decommissioned through unverified means. Even the most hopelessly overwhelmed Nanomachines drowning in their murky white death throes would automatically divert their energy reserves to the war for the womb and spend their last fuel cells "taking a few for the team," so to speak.

"I just wish we could have saved her," Natsuki muttered.

"She'll do fine," Shizuru said. "We train our girls to be strong in the face of any predicament."

"Damn that Junko!" Natsuki pounded her fist against the office wall. "She's making a mockery of everything we taught her!"

"With a power like hers, can you really blame her?" Shizuru innocently mused. "She's only a groundskeeper deciding when the best flowers are ready to be picked."

" _Yeugh_. That just makes it sound even more gross." Natsuki shuddered at the imagery.

"Life can't always be without its unpleasantries," Shizuru said quaintly.

"How can you be so calm about all of this?" Natsuki asked with an icy glare. "You were one of the first ones they got to after Junko figured out how to use our Nanomachines as a brainwave receiver."

"I prefer to say they granted me an early retirement."

Shizuru's lips made a quiet suckling sound as they met the rim of her tea cup.

"But what they're doing… It's so barbaric!" Natsuki scoffed.

"It would have been barbaric if Lady Farrell and her hunting dogs had chopped off the poor girl's head on a pulpit and put her entrails on display. We live in much more courteous times by comparison. It's a scheme only a true Otome could have concocted."

"I still say you should let me go after her," said Natsuki. "We just need to figure out where she's broadcasting from. It would only be for recon."

"I absolutely prohibit it," Shizuru replied with an almost greedy sting in her voice. "One small mistake and they could end up doing their own bit of recon on you. You're restricted to office duty until this messy Farrell business has reached its climax."

* * *

_Author's note: I've been thinking about Junko Enoshima a lot lately and I watched Gilda the other day. The Junko in this story is definitely a femme, and she's very fatale toward other Otomes' nanomachines._

_Author's note 2: The inspiration for the unnamed main heroine was an Otomized-ized version of Trixie from Kiddy Grade 2 crossed with Strike Noir. I apologize if anyone was offended by how she got her Jacobs Marleyed. I wanted to keep it open to the imagination but you can tell she really had her Du Hasts Miched. I'll try to have Junko and co. be more polite the next time some unfortunate young lady is getting her McCaffreys Vipered._

_Author's note 3: The king of Venusia can be interpreted as a stand-in for either Fu Manchu or a 70s porno director. Either one works in this situation._


	2. Oh My Juliet

" _She shafted us. I'm afraid, Mr. Cassidy, the only 'Viper' we'll find here is a dead one."_

\- Alec Connor, Viper

" _I can't handle a few Gs."_

\- Graham Aker, Gundam 00

" _Sleep tight, sucker."_

\- Chuck Norris, Delta Force

" _Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"_

\- a talking goat

* * *

It was the day of reckoning for the Delta Force, and it was the day of ravaging for the Delta Force's various personal anatomical peripherals. Junko had received word that this specially commissioned team of four Otomes had used their extensive stealth training to hide in Venusia and play as little intel mice for the past several months. Now they knew where she was, how she operated, and the most efficient way to dispatch her.

The circular panorama lining the walls of her command center glowed brightly around her. Her reception dais was stationed in front of her and awaiting her unique touch. Her silky fiberoptic control veil was resting just in arm's reach beside her.

They were coming for her. She'd just have to be ready for them.

* * *

The Delta Force made their covert insertion into the sublevels of Palace Venusia. After months of preparation, they were finally going to be rid of Junko Farrell, the scourge of Garderobe and the wretched traitor to all of Lady Fumi's teachings. How do you get rid of an untraceable ghost woman after she's obliterated and humiliated you at every turn? You send four of your own untraceable ghost women after her.

Jessica came in through the ceiling of the underground hall. She had the type of face that could look demure or determined depending on what the situation called for, with bright blue eyes and long hair tied up in a cherry-auburn ponytail. The curves of her back hips brushed lightly across the wide round pipe behind her as she shimmied sideways between the ventilation ducts. As soon as she had room, she flipped off of the pipes and gracefully floated down to the floor. Quiet and kind-hearted, she specialized in running the team's rear support.

Dorothy popped open a section of grating along the ground and emerged from the electrical system underneath. The always-serious tomboy of the group, she had light blue hair and lime green eyes. As she slowly climbed out from the propped open panel and onto the surface of the floor, the dangling loops of wire soldered to panel's underside brushed over her spine, through the valley of her lower back, and down the backs of her legs. They were like the mitter curtains of a car wash, or like a swarm of plastic-insulated tongues.

Gigi levitated down from a ceiling hatch near Jessica. She was the sunny one, with a blonde jagged bob cut, dark brown eyes, and an easygoing face that almost always expressed cheer. She was good to have around when the group was operating under deep cover and they needed a friendly mouthpiece to help keep up appearances. There was a small characteristic bounce to her chest as she landed on her pearl heels.

The three central members of the Delta Force wore identical Robes powered by semi-mass produced GEMs. The upper formfitting portion was made of dark gray Nanolaminate with silver shoulder armor that accommodated their elegantly cut _décolletage_. The sides of their shoulder armor were embedded with triangular jewels that gave each Otome her own color. Dorothy was ruby, Jessica was malachite, and Gigi was amethyst. The abdominal portion of their Robes were white with the Delta coat of arms. Their leggings were white with dark gray pearl slippers fabricated together into one continuous bodysuit. They had ribbon-like flight binders attached to their backs and hanging down to their ankles.

A fourth Otome stepped out of the dark near the other three. Chie was grinning toward them as she twirled a black tophat by spinning her index finger along the rim.

As the leader of the team, Chie got to fly with a more _chic_ look. Her Meister Robe was almost all-black with silver shoulder armor. The pattern on the front of her combat suit stylistically resembled a black overcoat pulled over a white corset, while a black cape and bell bottom leggings added extra flair to her profile. She snapped her fingers, and the top hat puffed out of existence in a cloud of Nano-smoke.

She was standing under a three-story-tall shelf of oil barrels in storage for military craft and various royal transports. An automated crane slept on a scaffold a dozen feet above her, appearing almost like it was pointing straight down at her head.

"Right on time, ladies. What do you say we crash a party?" Chie asked her three allies with a small wink.

Then her expression became gravely seriously. She silently made a motion of her hand slicing across her throat and signaled for the team to continue down the passageway.

The team had rendezvoused in the lowest level of the palace's flight garage, the perfect place for a rogue Otome to be hiding in the dark. Now they knew they were on the right path. Pipes meant ventilation passing both ways. Wires meant they were getting close to something that required a massive power supply. Gliding close to the ground in formation and cutting around a corner, they suddenly braked and landed on their feet. They had reached their target.

They were on a grated catwalk overlooking a massive white circular structure that shared design elements of a makeup compact, a sea urchin shell, and a flying saucer. A colossal pylon of electrical cables dangled down from the basement ceiling and connected to the top of the dome. It looked like just the sort of thing that could amplify an Otome's power range and allow her to extend her GEM's abilities to do something naughty.

Without saying a word, Chie motioned for the team to close around the radome. Now they just had to figure out how to get inside the thing.

* * *

Junko looked down at the glowing marble face of her Elemental control board. She was stroking her gloved white fingers over Venusia's newest, most sophisticated, and most devious upgrade to her Robe's technology. It was a black portable box that wired into place on the side of the white console and could be easily removed when it wasn't needed. It was designed to expand Junko's neural bandwidth and split her control link between several targets, all while processing the separate information streams from those targets in return. Before, Junko could only be patched into one Otome at a time. This would let her patch into as many as her spatial awareness could theoretically handle. Barely out of the prototype phase and reserved only for extreme emergencies, the mission that was about to commence was going to be the device's maiden voyage. It was called the Multi-Tap.

As she performed the final equipment check on her console, the her ear stud GEM clicked with static on her left lobe. King Venusia was communicating with her from outside her chapel radome.

" _Junko, are you sure about this? It doesn't have to be this risky."_

"Please put your faith in me, Your Majesty," she replied in heartfelt devotion. Her soft tone was haunted by only a small hint of fear. "We can't have everyone thinking the kingdom is becoming flaccid, can we? I will uphold my honor and protect Venusia's glory. This is how it must be done."

There was silence in her ear before the king finally spoke.

" _Let me know the moment it becomes too much for you to bear. I don't want you harming yourself for my sake, Junko."_

With an electronic click, he signed off.

Junko's hands reached toward the control dais and lifted her Robe's fiberoptic bridal veil. She gracefully drew the transparent curtains around her head and exhaled calmly. The entire chapel began to hum like a turbine spinning faster and faster.

* * *

Getting inside Junko's Funhouse was easier said than done. Gigi, Jessica, and Dorothy tried to slice their way in by working together with their three feather-shaped lance Elements. Chie tried throwing her magic top hat like a boomerang at the enclosure, but it just lazily pinged off the side and dropped to the ground. Aggravated, she spawned her wand in a puff of smoke and started inspecting the dome's structural layout.

The radome was good at hiding the seam lines along its metallic white surface when it was active, making it impossible for the Delta Force to find the entrance hatch through visuals alone. But by carefully tapping the end of her wand a little bit here, a little bit over there, and somewhere in the middle, she found a hollow space in the sounds echoing through the hull and could deduce where it opened. With silent hand signals, she held up three fingers and waved for the rest of the team to hover close to her side. She carefully lined up her wand with the hull of enclosure, gnashed her teeth as she cranked the wand like a lever, and instantly flew through the opening door with the rest of the team.

They landed on a polished white floor divided with gridlines. The interior of the radome was strangely empty. Glass screens built side by side encircled the walls like tall rectangular chapel windows, but all the systems were powered down so the room was left as an abandoned chamber of reflective mirrors. Above the mirrors was a solid black bar that looped all the way around the ceiling in a ring. Above the bar was a dome pantheon of sequential marble engravings showing dozens of Otome facing off in noble combat. Wars of conquest and independence began, circled through centuries, and seamlessly looped back to the start. The diorama depicted the Otomes as saintly heroines fighting with all of their hearts for the royal leaders they cherished. But these engravings also didn't hide the truth about Otome history, as every battle encircling the marble dome ended with at least one of the devoted maidens tragically being run through with a sword, stabbed with a spear, or impaled on a hydraulic-operated power bunker. It was a sad but familiar motif for their kind.

Confused and bewildered, all the Delta Otomes found waiting for them was a small round tea table set in the center of the chamber with a single folded card sitting on top of it. Chie checked her sides and cautiously approached the table. Her three subordinates closely followed her lead.

She lifted the card in her hand so she could see it more closely. The back was completely blank. The front, oddly, was emblazoned with the royal coat of arms for Venusia and the emblem for the Hidden Surging Chrysoprase GEM. Chie opened the card so the four baffled Otomes could see what was inside.

No words. No context. There was just one single thing printed in the card. It was a picture of a sausage sliding into a pastry roll.

" _Get those legs loose, girls! It's about time we got you plugged up!"_ Junko's voice suddenly chimed from the chamber speakers. The blast shutters Chie and her team had entered slammed shut on remote command.

The black ring encompassing the room came to life with liquid crystal lighting. It displayed an electronic marquee looping infinitely along the top of the mirrors.

_DIONYSUS SYSTEM ACTIVE - DIONYSUS SYSTEM ACTIVE - DIONYSUS SYSTEM ACTIVE_

Hidden ventilation ports burst open along the radome's ceiling and violently spewed a dark purple mist over the room. The Delta Force dropped their weapons and dizzily stumbled to the floor. The mist clouded their senses and partially paralyzed their bodies. Tiny electrical currents sizzled along the glossy surfaces of their Robes as aerosol particles reacted with the Materialized polymers on their suits and reduced their molecular strength to that of ordinary elastane. It left Chie and her teammates with a sensation like that numb fuzzy tingle when one of their limbs fell asleep, only in this case it covered their entire body. The air around them smelled faintly like… grapes and alcohol?

The mist wasn't just a defensive precaution. It made the Deltas' minds just a little more slippery. It would help Junko log into them more easily and slow the amount of feedback she would be receiving from their neural centers… _slightly._

They had no way of knowing what was in store for them or their classified details.

"Fuck you, Farrell!" Chie screamed toward the ceiling as she struggled to recover.

" _No thank you, but thanks for the offer,"_ Junko's ethereal computerized voice responded with a small fit of laughter. _"I'd rather keep my Nanomachines operational. But I'd say you're the one who's going to learn a lot about fucking in abouuut…"_

The walls of mirrors suddenly spun open, revealing the outlines of countless shadowy cloaked figures

" _Right now."_

The figures walked into the radome's bright light and closed around the Ototmes in a ceremonial array. Under their hoods, Chie and her team could see the faces of regal young men who were of a similar marriageable age as them. But these were not the sort of calm and caring bachelors that bachelorettes like the Delta Force would have preferred. These ones had sinister chuckles murmuring from their lips and grandiose sexual appetites gleaming in their eyes.

"Come on, you coward! Where the hell are you hiding?" Dorothy called up at the chamber's roof.

" _Even if I told you, it's not like you'll have the power to do anything about it,"_ Junko replied ominously. _"Pretty soon none of you are going to be Otomes anymore."_

Chie and her teammates were broiling with rage and contempt. And then they suddenly weren't. Their manners abruptly changed to be more cheerful and playful. Their eyes twinkled with a faintly electronic glow. All four of them were now under Junko's control.

The Delta team calmly shifted their positions while showing no hostility toward their Venusian enemies. They set aside their roles as covert combat maidens and all of their high tech gadgetry and started to show off their more spunky qualities.

Chie leaned back on her knees with her chest thrusted up and her legs spread apart, displaying all of her sleek Robe-clad self while drawing the male gaze gradually downward.

Dorothy glanced toward the cloaked army seductively and gently slid the tip of her tongue back and forth across her upper lip, drawing all the attention to her hungry mouth.

Jessica crouched on all fours with her hips flexing higher than her shoulders, putting the focus on her soon-to-be sorry little behind. She purred invitingly because she looks sort of like Akane's and Kazu-kun's daughter from the future.

Gigi shyly folded her hands behind her back and rocked her hips from side to side as she smiled, drawing attention to her waist and the glossy seam on her Robe a few inches below.

The eager young men in their black shrouds moved toward the Otomes. Then the risky and risqué tactical operation officially commenced.

* * *

Nice and easy, Junko. Remember your breathing exercises. Play it by the book and you'll stick it right in their bookends.

The Delta Force was no different from any of the other targets she had synchronized with. An Otome was really just a set of holes that happened to have a brain wired to them. This time she just had to micromanage four sets of holes on the same tantalizing dinner platter.

Synchronizing was easy by itself. All she needed to do once she had remotely commandeered another Otome's body was figure out which parts were her sweet spots, which parts were her sore spots, and just let things escalate one step at a time. Junko just had to let go of all of the thoughts that belonged to her and let the target Otome's happy place become her happy place. Only now her brain was going get confused from receiving a constant stream of I/O feedback from four different sets of happy places. But once Junko was in control and the Otome's cherry was bumped out of the way—ah, there goes Dorothy's right now. That one only pinched a little—once that was gone, everything unfolded naturally from there.

The rest was going to be dangerous, to put it kindly. Junko was known to get a little crazy while she was sharing the ecstasy of one Otome she was synchronized with. Her brain was about to be receiving the sensory data from four different strategic copulations occurring in tandem with each other. In addition to that, her mental resources were going to be further strained by the fact she had to manage control over four separate targets at once. She was putting her new equipment to the ultimate stress test.

_Uuhnf._ The Hidden Surging Chrysoprase nibbled on her lower lip to keep herself quiet and respectable. The digital twinkling on her silky veil was starting to get brighter and faster.

Every Otome had her own personal quirks. Just like how one dog might have an easier time learning how to play fetch than another, not every Otome could take a biological gatling gun of three rigid husband stalks shoved straight down one of her matrimony receptacles when she was just out of Garderobe. Even the ones who had some natural flex in the back or were gifted with a little more slack in the front benefited from some tender loving orifice training. Most of their flesh outlets needed a chance to get used to the way things worked in Venusia before they could comfortably be engaged to their fullest potential. With the right conditioning, even the purest and tightest prudes could unwind enough so they became thirsty, gaping sex sockets and that grungy Nanomachine-destroying liquid love could flow right in.

Junko let her male helpers take matters into their hands for the most part, but she would lead them on if either they found a certain rhythm to their movements that was especially nice on the host, or she could sense they were close to tearing something under too much stress. She preferred sweet rivulets of pleasure trickling into her feedback loop rather than shocking spikes of pain, and she was certain the Otome she was connected to would have gone with the same if she had a choice. But of course, there always going to be a certain degree of unavoidable ache involved when she was always dealing with first-time maidens and the proportion of testes to teste receivers was so obscenely unbalanced.

And in all of her honor and high standards as an Otome herself, Junko never faked it.

She stroked her fingertips across the glowing sliders on her dais to do some load balancing. When one of the four sources of pleasure impulses was getting a little too feisty to bare, she would just slightly weaken the signals circulating between her and the Delta Force's shared minds and split some of the payload back to them. This meant the sensations were divided equally between all five participants. For the moment, the strategy payed off nicely, but she couldn't throttle the data stream _too_ much. If she sacrificed too much signal, her domination over their bodies would start to falter and she could lose synchronization with them completely. The Delta Otomes were the last girls Junko wanted to let off easy.

It was quite pleasant, at first. She was sure it helped the Deltas with that "sisterly bonding" thing Garderobe was always striving for. But she started to struggle as the first waves of girlish orgasms streamed in from their central cortexes and the frothing white nectar began to flow freely. She was going to be the one suffering the most when the balls really got rolling.

* * *

The festivities were unfolding according to plan. Chie was bouncing up and down in the lap of one cloaked Venusian, panting wildly in exertion as she thrusted her softening petals in and out. Jessica was still on all fours and sandwiched between two of the cloaked figures—one lying underneath her while the other was crouched behind her. Her lower half was covered by their black robes and getting double-rampaged behind the veil. The one underneath her was moaning in enchantment as he took her velveteen low road. The one behind her had his lips curled in a sweet wince as he worked a little slower and braved the narrow puckered confines of her high road. Her articulated back ribbons dangled out of his cloak and tied in a heart-shaped knot behind his waist to keep him securely loaded in place for the ride. Her facial expressions were a sultry combination of both of her companions'.

Gigi was bent toward one of the chamber's reflective walls with her gloved palms pressed against the mirror and her chest swaying like a pair of water balloons inside the rubbery gray confines of her Robe. She was glancing over her shoulder and giving one of the men a suggestive little smile. He was wrenching his hands around her hips like her Robe was a rodeo saddle and giving her the slip from behind. Where he was giving it was open for interpretation.

Dorothy was facing one of the other cloaked opponents while hanging completely upside-down in the air, using the anti-gravity drives on her Robe to an exceptionally erotic effect. The Venusian collaborator was licking the sugary labian rolls exposed between the torn open groin panels of her battle gown. One of his hands was stretching underneath the formfitting wrinkles of her Robe and lightly pressing his wedding finger into her rear entrance to get her ready for her own back-up injection. She was murmuring playfully and sucking on the salty steakpop tucked inside his cloak.

Each Otome was well into her third or fourth waltz partner, and all of the preceding matches—as always—had ended in successful internal ejaculations. They were already dead women by all technical standards, turning the rest of this exercise a simple matter of executive duty. When one pair of organic protein tanks had finished firmly and deliberately unloading themselves into a lady's graces and withdrew with thick threads of liquid silk still stretching from its shrinking bulbous head, the next fresh pair was always waiting just a few inches away and slipped straight back into gear without giving the Otome a moment to recover. Through one illicit experience after another, all of the Delta team's intimate components were gradually being made accustomed to the stresses and pleasures of receiving male ilk and were prohibited from going unmated until the grand event was over. Until then, stretched in turmoil and accommodating no less than one foreign dignitary at any given time would be their default rest state.

* * *

Junko was starting to lose it. No amount of happy breathing in the world could help her cope with the surreal ecstasy digitally looping through her senses. She was so _there_ with the Delta Otomes that her body had started parroting their movements on reflex. She was spending the stamina of four young women being brought into their sexual primes when keeping up with just two of them would have been tricky. Some of her previous decommissioning sessions had been intense on her neural system, but this was the only time her body had gotten so... _involved._

She was leaning forward with her palms pressing across her Element dashboard as she struggled to breathe without sounding like a female warthog in heat. The Robed lower quadrants of her body were grinding forward either because she had decided the corner of the control dais was her new best friend, or because the Invisible Man was doing her a dirty from behind.

For a moment, she didn't actually know if she could take it. All of her involuntary gyrations were putting a physical toll she had never anticipated on her body in addition to all the neural strain throbbing through her mind. Her fingers clawed against the solid metal edge of the control dais as her teeth gnashed and her whole body convulsed. With her extended Otome strength, she wound up leaving small fingerprint indentations on the titanium surface.

" _That's it, Junko!"_ King Venusia echoed frantically through her electronic ear stud. _"You've done enough already! I'm ordering the men to let the Deltas go and shutting you down! They're finished anyway!"_

Hearing an outside voice pulled her back to awareness in her own body.

"What? You think I can't handle a few Ds? These girls still have some sparks left in their Nanomachines. I'm just getting warmed up."

She stopped to lick her lips, using the neutral waxy taste of her pale pink Materialized lipstick to help undo the imaginary mouthful of salty clam chowder washing over her tongue and throwing off her senses. Her throat muscles delicately shifted to accept the phantom wad soaking on her tongue, and the Delta Otome she was synchronized with obediently made the same gesture with the real deal filling her own mouth. Junko made sure all of them were experienced swallowers.

She could feel countless ghost hands overlapping each other exploring every corner of her body, particularly at the spots where she was the roundest along her chest and backside.

Her hips abruptly flinched. She could feel the thin fabric of her own white Robe closely hugging the contours of her lower hind end underneath her long gown skirt, and then she felt the imaginary sensation of two… no, _three_ ring fingers carefully but diligently poking into her rear door and wiggling around to exercise the muscles inside. Well, _someone_ on the Delta team was getting prepped for some serious backstage business.

" _Your eroflux is flying off the grid!"_ King Venusia shouted again on her comms. _"Keep going like this and you could end up burning your neural uplink harder than their antigen slots!"_

But the Hidden Surging Chrysoprase was unwavering in her resolve.

"The Delta Otomes wanted to make this personal," she answered with a bitter tone. "They deserve every last bit of the Junko White Out no matter how many of my brain cells I have to fry to make sure they get it! I told you I'm not pulling out until these little protein queens are clogged up to the brim!"

* * *

The floor was covered with an incoherent pile of bodies grinding in agony. The cloaks of the Venusians turned the ground into a single writhing flood of darkness. The once shining and pristine command chamber that had been the private sanctuary of the kingdom's own beloved and immaculate Otome had been converted into an almost unrecognizable pit of unchained depravity. The text in the digital marquee scrolling across the walls of the room had updated to reflect the current dire state of affairs.

_FINAL FESTIVAL - CODE OBSIDIAN: BURIED PILLARS - EMERGENCY NANOEXTERMINATION EVENT - TOTAL PSA EXPURGATION IN PROGRESS - WARNING: MAX OCCUPANCY MANDATORY IN ALL DESIGNATED DISPOSAL AREAS. ALL ENTRY TARGETS UNDER CRITICAL LOCKDOWN. BIOHAZARD SEEPAGE IMPENDING. - ENGAGEMENT MODE: STYLE LIBRE - UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL KEEP OUT_

The moaning, screaming, and pleasant sighing sounds washing through the circular room were the result of a hundred prostates urgently being purged clean of their burdens into four very inviting recipients. The antigen must flow.

The four Otome starlets at the center of the show were stark bucking naked, and not a single Robe thread had survived. Their Nanomachines had deteriorated so much from the carnal encounter that the devices could no longer maintain their Robes and just sort of gave up trying to remember what the Delta team had been wearing before they had Materialized. The ratio of exposure in the mission debriefing was going to calculate to roughly 39.2 bridegrooms per 1 Otome, or 5,000,000 sperm cells per 1 Nanomachine. It was a provocative milestone that would set the standard for future ages and inspire the Venusians just as much as it demoralized Garderobe. Chie's, Dorothy's, Jessica's, and Gigi's amazingly utilized musk outlets were going to be more well known throughout the land than the four Otomes themselves.

Of course, it was difficult to actually see how naked they were when the base of the chamber was consumed in a flood of darkness and flesh. The leaner muscles and the presence of smooth curves made it clear when a body part belonged to one of the girls, but which one was a wild guess. Random glimpses of extreme states of coitus were visible every few seconds, but it would take the Delta Force's personal medical staff with expert knowledge of each Otome's anatomical layout reviewing the event in freeze-frames to discern who was getting what in where. Upon review, some of the major points of interest in the savage performance included, but were most certainly not limited to:

* Chie lying on her back with her waist curled up and her knees mashing her swollen areolae so all of her voluptuous lower features were prominently accessible. Cloaked figures swarming over her pounded their hard staves of veiny meat straight downward, creating a brutally efficient antigen delivery system that combined the nimble choreography of the sawing-a-woman-in-half magic illusion with the visceral danger of the swords-through-a-vase trick. Every few minutes, after her puffed grooves had suffered multiple ejaculations in a row, a few of the more attentive and shameless members of the Venusian squad would ease a single finger down into one of her inflicted recesses, gently stir it around a bit to help her walls calm and get the freshest loads of marshmallow frappe settled in, and carefully draw it back out to measure how much white oil she had on tap. Sometimes whoever was doing the reading would hold his seed and nectar-coated finger over her blissful gleaming eyes so she could see exactly what state her gruel catcher was in for herself, or he would use one hand to get a more firm grasp around her plump slotted base and use his other hand to slide his finger back in for a second reading. Sometimes an inspector would invite two or eight of his friends over to get a close look and help him verify how much friendship was building up in her gulags. They'd take turns or drop their flexing dipsticks together into the Otome Valve in question, while Chie kept herself occupied by wrapping her lips around the rigid hardnesses of the groaning cloaked figures crouching around her head. If the reading revealed she wasn't up to stuff, her stuff would be sentenced to suffer more of Venusia's wrath and a light pat on her tush would give the signal for the next cast of actors to slip into the playhouse. Chie's moans were the sweetest and most thrilled when the fingers were deep into investigating her fluid levels, especially when vaginal and rectal were being inspected in parallel by two brazen _connoisseurs_ hovering meticulously over her ports. That's when the real magic happened, when she would start giving little kisses to the pair of swinging flesh fruit hanging off the Venusian crouching over her face to help him focus on his slow and delicate examination. Even when only her naked legs could be seen sticking up from the void of black carnage (if any of her could be seen), her haughty mating cries rising above all the other waves of incomprehensible male and female moans made it easy to deduce when that particular Otome's glans dumps were being given another routine damage assessment. Maybe Junko was making her act this way to make a staunch example of her, maybe the muscles of her keenly-stimulated antigen accumulators liked the feeling of a deft and easy-to-fit finger brushing down in there as a soothing repose immediately after getting plowed and traumatized with countless stiff penial shafts, or maybe she was just really into finding out how poorly she was being defeated.

* Gigi with her body flexed in such a way where only her lower-half was visible in the black sea and one of her legs was lifted and curled sideways in the air. Given the placement and alluringly slackened state of her lower parts, those parts were under constant duress from clustered scrotal sacks hanging out of dark curtains and frantically looking for a good angle to deposit their pollen in her. The closest ones who couldn't fit into her due to the high volume of traffic kept themselves queued up by slowly gliding their desperate shafts through the tender jiggling fat of her back buns, or settling into one of the two notches between her moist inner thigh and her harshly traveled womanhood. When one phallic visitor was finished with his business, the next would slide straight into place without a moment to spare and the storm of zealous thrusting would continue uninterrupted. There were a couple of attempts to spot-check her condition using the same sly finger dipping method devised for Chie, but her front and rear openings' inability to go a single instant without being crammed with meat bouquets in regular eruption made it difficult to get a finger in and made the few readings inaccurate. They would just have to unload their vaccines any which way they fit in her and trust nature and nanoscience to take their course. She didn't seem to like having anything put in her if couldn't fill her sensitive recesses with more juicy platinum gunk, anyway. Her overturned upper-half was drowning underneath the endless waves of black cloaks, where she suckled on an indeterminate number of manlyhoods for precious subsistence. "Mmmf Nmmf Hmmf Mmmf" was the hymn of this falling Valkyrie. Unfortunately, the positioning meant no one would ever know just how bouncy her mammaries could really be when they were let out of their Robe and put to the test. The top priority of this operation was to patch up the defects in the Delta Otomes, and Gigi's chest was one thing about her that certainly wasn't defective.

* Jessica lying on her stomach on top of thriving mass of black mattresses while living black sheets swept over her bare back. Her face was blushing dark passionate red as she struggled to endure the turmoil happening to her. The back of her left leg stretched out across the mattresses from underneath the sheets, revealing her bare toes wiggling in rhythm with the urgent thrusting from her countless cloaked partners. After every several rounds of the relentless pounding, she would stretch her back and draw playful circles in the air with her lower flanks. Eventually she pushed her luck a little too far (or she got exactly the results she wanted…) when her co-conspirators grabbed hold of her mid-wiggle and mercilessly jammed as many of themselves as could possibly fit without further delay. She cringed with her teeth and squeaked for an instant, then nestled the side of her mouth against the back of her hands and sighed in slight but pleasant discomfort. Jessica might have actually been able to doze off if Chie wasn't being so noisy from getting the dilapidation in her Deltoids examined again.

* Dorothy having every inch of her body extensively licked by half of her Venusian partners while the other half were making their rounds on her exploitable assets. They had apparently decided she produced the best-tasting sweat on the team, so they gladly took her minerals off her in exchange for using her as an immense storage cache for theirs. The smooth, supple, delicate impressions of her armpits were the most tangy part about her, and the most ticklish.

Everything before this moment had been a carefully organized strategic assault on some perky spandex-covered asses. This was a celebration of cannibalistic passion acted out by a horde of wild man-beasts in black cloaks and four ceremonial maidens happily volunteering their talents. This was the unmitigated slaughter of every Nanomachine still ticking, the total and utter debasement of the Delta Force, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to unleash primal urges on some of the prettiest, most physically fit, and thoroughly limbered-up young women on the planet. The Delta Otomes were being abhorrently deflowered out of service, yet they had never been in fuller bloom than now.

* * *

Junko screamed under her silk wedding veil. She screamed, she screamed, and she screamed. Her mind was bombarded with unbearable electronic sensuality that made her consciousness spiral in pure mania. The top of her Elemental control panel started to spark from receiving too much information.

But even still, she forced herself to pull through with the operation on the few scraps of rational thought she cling to. She just needed to focus on the here and now to keep herself in some realm of sanity. Those crevasses were becoming nice and full of caulking glue. Those big, bulging, PSA bonbons slamming into them two, three, six at a time had pumped almost all of their dirtiness into where it belonged and were teetering splendidly close to Empty. Soon these sleazy sneaking swamp vixens who had tried to do her in the cheap way would get their just desserts. Or better yet, they'd just become cream-filled desserts themselves.

* * *

Thick, hard corks popped out of elegant curved wine bottles in jubilation. Everything was as white as sunlight after coming out of a wedding chapel.

The Delta Force was sprawled in messy discarded piles on the command chamber floor. Their males rivals carefully stepped over them while closing their black cloaks and tying their sashes. The campaign was officially over for both sides.

The Otomes stirred feebly into awareness. Junko had released her locks over their minds and allowed them to become themselves again, but they were still deeply under the influence of their own arousal and exhaustion. They may have been unable to control their actions while Junko was connected to them, but they had experienced every second of the event. Every inch of it. Every sweltering gallon of it.

The cloaked young men gathered together to leave, while the Otomes were too drained of their energy and senses to do much of anything. On the boys' side, the shafts had shriveled to pathetic nothingness and every testicle in the room was as dry as a desert. On the girls' side, every useful orifice had accomplished its purpose exquisitely and there wasn't a single mouth, caboose tunnel, or coochie hole in sight that wasn't leaking copious quantities of white hot anti-Nanomachine vaccination.

The Delta Force had met their end at the hands of the Omega Otome.

The chamber's mirror panels opened again and the men walked out. Some stumbled on numb wobbling legs as they left. Others had their hands held below their belts, comforting their hanging male sacks aching from intense emptiness.

"You got me good… Farrell…" Chie grumbled weakly on her back as a mixture of clear saliva and thick pearl stickiness drooled down the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes to mitigate her dizziness. She was disgraced, she was humiliated, but in hindsight, she'd be lying if she said part of her didn't appreciate what had been done with her.

"Can we do that again?" Jessica mumbled in a blissfully mindless stupor to no one in particular. She curled on her side brushing her wrist against her nose.

"Nasty…" Dorothy murmured with side of her mouth pressed against the floor as a white pool dripped from her lips. She was three-quarters asleep and lying flat on her sweat-soaked chest with her vanilla-pumped butt facing up. Womanly nectar and boyseed dripped into a small puddle underneath her twitching, slightly parted thighs. She could still feel the dozens of tongues lashing lecherously across her shoulder blades and the shallow drenched riverbanks of her back. When she spoke, she managed to say that single word in a tone that conveyed while she was more than disgusted by the way things had turned out, she too was coming around to thinking it really wasn't all that bad.

Gigi only made drunken giggling noises as she lay on her side. She reached down herself to playfully scratch her soaked, sloppy, tangled blonde pubic tuft with her nails. She general seemed to leak the largest share of natural masculine medicine compared to the other ladies. Only the river of warm nutmilk tricking out of Jessica's tail had her beat.

Chie let go of all of her worries as she drifted off. She'd figure out a way to get her team back to Garderobe later, along with how to get them some desperately-needed showers and clothes. Right now all the four of them wanted was to sleep off their afterglow.

* * *

Junko was collapsed over her control dais with her Robe veil tossed down in a heap in front of her. She climbed off of her knees using the table as a support and collected herself as best as she could.

"Ah. That should do me in for a while," she sighed to reassure herself.

Her glossy white arms wiped away the deluge of sweat clinging to her forehead, while her palms brushed off the hysterical tears running down her eyes. She was rancid. Her hair was wild and disheveled. It took every ounce of effort to keep her tongue from senselessly hanging out the side of her mouth. She was just as filthy with her own herbal essences as the very former Delta Otomes were with man dew. Even though she had only experienced it through simulation and she was now logged out of it, she could still sense the steaming gallons of her male collaborators frothing inside her nethergardens. She didn't have to imagine how it must have felt for the four Otomes who had to actually endure it.

Now that she had HORTICULTURAL-02 up and running, the only question left was what to do about HORTICULTURAL-01 once Chie and her loose-lipped friends got their battered boot sequences out of there and went back to their own kingdom to be normal housemaids. Should she abandon it and have it immolated now that it was forever smeared as a site of profound Otome desecration? Use it as a secondary post and just think of everything that happened today as an extreme form of remodeling to savor to the memory? Her plan was always to make it get messy in there, but she hadn't actually thought through what to do with the mess afterwards. She'd have to think about it for a while before she talked it over with the king.

But now that a special set of conditions had been met, she did have one other option lingering on her mind. If she pressed the bright red button on her console that was marked by a heart symbol containing an infinity sign, she would activate HORTICULTURAL-01's Valhalla Processor. This would rinse the vulnerable Deltas down with a powerful Otome tranquilizer/male protein enhancer that would solidify into a thin sheet of Nanosatin and comfortably seal up all of their antigen-loaded quirks. All that white hot eroticism would spoil inside of them with nowhere else to go, allowing it to be completely absorbed into their bodies so it could react with their dead Nanomachines as it irrevocably altered their minds. Once they had spent a few days writhing in pleasure-filled dreams under the sheet, HORTICULTURAL-01 would unseal its environment and the four Otomes would rise out of their shared cyber-organic cocoon as loyal black-suited assault beauties known as Fulfilled Einharjar. Junko was tempted as the Delta Force's lives delicately hanged in the balance of her hands, so very tempted, but she ultimately decided they had already received the right amount of punishment fitting for their crimes. Taking things any further would have been unbecoming for a lady of her gentle demeanor.

Junko pressed her forefinger and middle finger to her GEM to deactivate it, and all traces of her Elemental dais and her Robe disappeared. In an instant, her skintight combat gown de-Materialized into her Meister Otome court uniform: An elegant and quaint white apron with gold trim pulled over a sleeveless white blouse, white miniskirt, white princess gloves, and dainty white medium-heeled dress slippers. Her apron was tied with a large white wedding bow hanging from her lower back. Finishing off the uniform was a short black velvet mantle tucked over her bare shoulders and decorated with tiny pearl beads, a small and tasteful detail that hinted toward her role on the battlefield. Her uncovered arms and legs helped cool her down, but it didn't help hide the droplets of crystal clear flowery lubricant trickling delicately on one of her thighs.

She started to walk toward the sealed hatch that led out of her new command dome. Despite her best efforts, the way she moved was anything but regal or reserved. With her head aching and her loins throbbing, she felt ready to pass out at any moment. When she reached the door, she had to stop and rest her palm against the pressure lock just to keep her balance.

" _Junko? Are you… Did everything end all right?"_ King Venusia's voice crackled from her Chrysoprase ear stud. His tone was deeply concerned.

"Not the kind of thing I'd want to do very often," Junko struggled to reply with a parched throat drowning in phantom male aroma. While she finally caught her breath, she smiled weakly.

"But it was worth it for making those Delta girls get it right up their hypotenuses."

* * *

_Author's note: This My Otome OC doesn't fuck around. …Or maybe she does? I'm not really sure how that works._

_Author's note 2: I guess you could say Dorothy got all of Kansas in her Toto._

_Author's note 3: Writing this made me think a lot about that scene in Guilty Crown where Tsugumi is in her Nerd Room talking on her headset about how the rest of her team is getting in range of the target, but the animators chose to put the camera smack dab front and center on her glowy mocap suit blue butt so the entire line instantly becomes a raunchy double entendre while she's saying it. That show was awful, but it was good at little things like that scene. Really shows you how much we've accomplished as a society. This is us. Postmodernism at work. All of Aristotle's prophecies have come to fruition._


End file.
